The Sentence
by ItsukaFuuryu
Summary: After the war, Draco is charged with the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore, but thanks to some unwanted help, the Wizengamot go easy on him. His sentence? One year living in the Muggle world...in America. Rating is for safety. R&R but be gentle!
1. Chapter 1

I'm baaaaaack!

Well, while I was going through trying to revise my pride and joy the Gryffindor Girl and the Slytherin Seeker (if you love LONG fics please check that out), and while I was walking around school, I thought about this scenario. And I thought, oh what the hell just write it!

Summary: After the war and Ministry reassembles, past Deatheaters are called before the Wizengamot to receive sentencing. Draco Malfoy is among the ones called, charged with the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore. However, a couple of his old "foes" decide to help him out, causing the new Minister of Magic to go easy on him. His sentence? One year in a Muggle school…in America. Oh the possibilities.

Disclaimer: As always I own nothing except these random Americans.

The first chapter is a bit slow and dramatic, but it does get better.

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THE SENTENCE

CHAPTER ONE: THE TRAIL

Draco Malfoy entered the court room, dressed the best he had ever been dressed, staring at his shoes the entire time. His mother hurried him along, scowling at everyone in the room responsible for forcing her son to come here. He was only seventeen, for Merlin's sake! Was he really supposed to pay for something that was nothing more than a mere flaw in judgement? In fact, Narcissa Malfoy felt if anyone should pay for her son's supposed "crime", it was herself. She could have stopped this long ago by trying to stop Lucius from his ridiculous standards, refusing to be a Deatheater, even not marrying Lucius at all. She shook her head. Draco was all Lucius had ever given her, and was the only reason Narcissa would ever be greatful to that man. They stepped to the side, taking their seats.

Draco, however, was not thinking of his father. In fact, he was barely thinking at all. He continued to stare at the floor, blocking out the sound of rustling people in the stands of the new Wizengamot, Minister Shackbolt at the head. He didn't have to go over what he was going to say. He had already decided on telling the truth. With the Dark Lord gone now, his family was safe, even if he would possibly serve time in Azkaban for attempted murder.

"_You're not a killer, Draco,"_ he had said. Dumbledore had been right about that. He wasn't a killer. Had those Deatheaters not shown up when they did, he was prepared to allow the old man to help him. He heaved a tremendous sigh and swallowed hard as his mother placed a hand on his shoulder. Draco frankly wished his mother would leave him be.

"Draco, please be reasonable," Narcissa begged her son. Though he wasn't looking at her, he heard the tears she was holding back. She choked. "It's not too late. I can have someone here to defend you in now time!"

"No, Mum," Draco said flatly. He had already told her no three times before. "I rather just defend myself. I want them to give me the sentence I deserve, not some cushy replacement because some attorney can twist my story into the whole 'poor lonely Malfoy boy.'" Draco sighed, looking at his mother for the first time since they entered the Ministry. She looked so broken by her words, and he hated it, but he knew he, for once, had to do the right thing. He forced a smirk, which was extremely difficult with his stomach turning every twenty seconds. "It should be alright. I mean, what evidence do they have?"

Suddenly the room came to order, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, began announcing the members of the Wizengamot. It was suddenly becoming too real to Draco, and his pale palms began to sweat profusely. He took a shaky breath, his heart pounding insanely, as if it were trying to escape the prison of his rib cage.

"We have gathered to look over the case of one, Draco Vladimir Malfoy," Shacklebolt announced, looking over to Draco and his mother, "who is charged with the attempted murder and accessory to the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Shacklebolt stared at Draco, as if trying to see through him, his eyes narrowed. "Does the defendant have someone to represent him?"

Draco cleared his throat and stood up straight, trying to look as confident and well-groomed as possible, hoping the Minister couldn't see the bags under his pale gray eyes. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. He knew he had no one to defend him. Dumbledore was gone and the only other person who would ever be there for him, who would help him, who had tried to help him, was dead as well. Draco took a breath."No, sir-,"

"Yes he does," said a voice as a door swung open and shut. A familiar face to Draco walked in. A much older woman with a stern demeanor and her dark hair tied in a tight bun. Draco's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"State your full name, please?" Shacklebolt told the woman. Her hands went to her hips.

"Kingsley, you know me!" Minerva McGonagall said in outrage. Draco could have sworn he had seen Shacklebolt's mouth twitch.

"That's Minister, to you," he said sternly, obviously trying hard not to smile. "Now, full name."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Minerva Claire McGonagall, new Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Shacklebolt nodded, now grinning. "Now was that so hard?" McGonagall glared. He turned to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy, if you will take your seat."

Draco nodded stiffly before rising, giving his mother's hand a quick squeeze as the walked over the chair in the middle of the room, taking deep breaths every step of the way. He swallowed hard again.

"Now, Professor McGonagall," Shacklebolt said, his professional persona returning, "you are aware to charges against Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes," McGonagall told him, folding her arms. "And they are nothing short of outrageous!"

Shacklebolt seemed taken aback, as was Draco, who eyed her curiously. He really hoped she didn't try to paint him as some wonderful student and great person, because he never was and never would be, and he knew McGonagall knew this. "Explain," Shacklebolt told her.

"Well, for starters," McGonagall began, "you are forgetting that at the time Mr. Malfoy was only sixteen years old, and was under pressure from his father to take on the...the assignment." Her words were breaking for a moment, but she seemed to recover. "He was a scared, confused teenager! How can you possibly even charge him?"

"He was there," Shacklebolt replied. "And it proves that he is very easily swayed by promises and prizes,-"

"What?!" Draco snapped. McGonagall gave him a stern look before he said anything more. He didn't like this. He wanted to speak for himself, not have someone put words in his mouth.

"The bottom line, Professor McGonagall," Shacklebolt continued, "is that though he was young, he managed to get himself mixed up in one of the biggest murders in history. You can say what you will, but he was not aware of what Snape and Dumbledore had planned, therefore Mr. Malfoy could have very well been at the Astronomy Tower with every intention of killing Albus Dumbledore."

"That is entirely speculation!" McGonagall shot the Minister. "If that is all you have, than this whole thing is a waste of all of our time."

"Professor, please, do not make me have to hold you in contempt," Shacklebolt turned to Draco. He was fuming inside. He didn't like the idea of people bickering about him as he sat right there. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco looked over at his mother, who was holding a handkerchief to her leaking gray eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, as if pleading with him. Then he looked at McGonagall, who shrugged and nodded. Draco turned back to the Wizengamot, this time he stood up.

"You're right," he said, his glare prominent. "I had every intention of doing what I had been assigned. I tried several times to do it before then, but all attempts failed." He took a breath. "But then, Dumbledore talked to me. He told me I wasn't a killer, and that he could protect me and my mother, even my dad. After he said that," Draco looked at all of them, "I was going to take his offer. I was going to let him help. But then, the other's showed up..." He cut off turning away. "That's my side of the story. Take it or leave it." He sat back and watched as the Wizengamot murmured and whispered. He knew then that no one had believed him, and he could hear his mother nearly sobbing from her seat. Draco stared at the floor again. He was going to Azkaban.

"Well, unfortunately, Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolt told him, "All we have is your word and a very passionate testimony from your...representative," he nodded to McGonagall. "However, there is no proof that shows that you suddenly 'changed your mind' at the last minute, but plenty of testimony from other Deatheaters that came in before you that states you as having every intention and every will to kill Albus Dumbledore. You were not Imperiused, and despite what has been stated, you were not technically forced. So unless there is a witness willing to speak for you-,"

"I'll speak for him," said a voice as a boy stomped from behind the shadows. His jet black hair was messy as ever and his piercing green eyes were narrowed at Shacklebolt. Draco set his jaw and his fist clenched.

"What are YOU doing here?!" Draco shouted. Harry Potter ignored him, staring only at the Wizengamot.

"Silence, Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolt commanded. Draco glared lethally. Great, now wonderful _Saint Potter_ had to come to his rescue! Lovely! "Full name."

Potter stared, as Draco rolled his eyes. Really? Did he really have to asked the person who only a few months before just saved the entire wizarding world what his full name was. Potter frowned but said quickly, "Harry James Potter."

Shacklebolt nodded. "Alright, go on. What testimony do you have?"

Potter took a couple steps forward before clearing his throat. Draco sighed again. He was undeniably doomed.

"I was there that night," Potter began, "at the Astronomy Tower. I was hiding under my Invisibility Cloak. Dumbledore was keeping me safe. But as I was stuck there, I saw Draco. I...I kinda had been following him for a while, trying to figure out what he was up to, but when I saw him in front of Dumbledore, I could just tell," Potter looked at Draco, and Draco almost went over a pummled him. Leave it to The-Boy-Who-Just-Won't-Die to take things into his own hands and meddle around, as if it were his business. And then here he was, once again getting involved where he didn't belong. Who did this git think he was?! "I could just tell that...he wasn't going t do it. Plus, what Malfoy said was right. When Dumbledore began to offer him protection, and began talking to him, he lowered his wand." Potter stepped foreward again, now eye to eye with Shacklebolt. "He was not going to kill Dumbledore. He made futile attempts because he didn't really want to do it." Potter looked at Draco again, a look that got a glare in return. "I just know...he didn't want to do it."

Shacklebolt seemed to ponder something, and began to whisper to his collegues. Draco knew this was it. Soon, he would be shipped of to Azkaban, never to see his mother, or even the light of day ever again. The Minister of Magic frowned.

"This is not a discussion of whether or not Mr. Malfoy wanted to kill Dumbledore," Shacklebolt explained. "This is about Mr. Malfoy's intentions in the matter. Now Mr. Potter's and Professor McGonagall's testimonies says that Mr. Malfoy had no intention of murdering him, but my evidence says otherwise. I have two known accounts of Mr. Malfoy attempting to murder Dumbledore, but instead, someone else got hurt. The first is the cursed necklace that ended up in the hands of," Shacklebolt flipped through some pages, "Kathrine Amelia Bell. And another, involving poisoned mead, which almost killed," More flipping of pages, "Ronald Bilius Weasley. In fact, had the other parties in question agreed we would have several other charges to add."

Draco glowered at the floor, hoping to perhaps to eventually burn a hole in it so he could escape. It was over. They had too much evidence against him.

"In fact, Mr. Malfoy," Shacklebolt continued, speaking to the blond boy directly, "even without those charges, I still have plenty of evidence that says that you are nothing but an attention starved child that saw killing an old man as your only means to make a name for yourself." Draco opened his mouth to retort, but McGonagall nudged him. "I have every right to send you to Azkaban."

Draco's mother suddenly gave a great sob, covering her mouth and nose as she began to cry openly. McGonagall looked outraged and Potter took a stance, ready to protest. Draco, however, did not care. He had expected this, and decided that it was time to pay for his crime.

"However," Shacklebolt told Draco, "I am not going to do so." Draco looked up, stunned, as she heard his mother's breathing hitch. "These testimonies have moved the Wizengamot, especially since they come from two people that I know may not be very fond of you. You should be grateful to them." Draco snorted, knowing he didn't owe these people anything. In fact, he would _never _forgive them for this. "But, you do need to be punished, I think, so I think we have a compromise." He turned to the rest to the group and the deliberated quietly, and Draco wanted desperately to hear what they were saying. Shacklebolt turned back to Draco.

"You're sentence is," Shacklebolt began, "You are going to spend one year starting September twentieth, in the Muggle world. You will go to a Muggle school, learn Muggle customs, and basically live the life of a Muggle. You wand will be confiscated by the foster family that will take you in over there, so you are not allowed magic except in emergencies. Once the year is up, we will convene again and discuss your progress. Until we shall make your arrangments." He knocked his mallet twice. "Meeting ajorned."

Draco's jaw nearly hit the floor. McGonagall patted him on the shoulder as she left, seeming to heave a sigh of relief. Potter looked at Draco, who glared right back, before nodding to both Draco and Narcissa and walking out of the room. Draco was shocked and disgusted. What kind of ludicrus punishment was that?! A year with Muggles?! No magic?! This had to be a joke. Draco desperately wanted to find a calander to make sure it wasn't April first.

Draco suddenly found himself wishing for Azkaban.

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So that's the first chapter, definitely a little rocky but it gets better.

R&R please! But be gentle, this is my first time doing a story kinda like this.


	2. Chapter 2

Note: I may not update very often. School has me in shackles. And my social life. But we'll see how this goes.

Summary: After the war and Ministry reassembles, past Deatheaters are called before the Wizengamot to receive sentencing. Draco Malfoy is among the ones called, charged with the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore. However, a couple of his old "foes" decide to help him out, causing the new Minister of Magic to go easy on him. His sentence? One year in a Muggle school…in America. Oh the possibilities.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Draco, but JKR wont let me have him.

Onward! To this very long chapter

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THE SENTENCE

CHAPTER TWO: THE LONGEST FLIGHT

Draco kicked his trunk as he packed it no where near as neatly as he usually liked. He was furious at the entire world, especially at the Minister of Magic and the great "Chosen One". He was still convinced this couldn't be happening, hoping any minute now someone would come in his room, point and laugh, and tell him that it was all a joke. He shoved his wand into his pocket, keeping it on him as often as possible now. Soon he would have to hand it over to Merlin knew who. He wasn't even sure where he would be relocated. The Ministry hadn't told him a thing.

When his mother had written to his father, though Draco had begged her not to, Lucius Malfoy was no where near happy. In fact, he was so furious he found a way to send a Howler to Malfoy Manor, screaming at Draco for his disgrace. Draco, however, couldn't care less. Not only did he not care what his father said anymore, he was more preoccupied on where the hell he would be going. The Ministry letter that had been sent to the house had stated that he was to expect "drastic change", but didn't disclose his "new home." Draco nearly threw up at the thought. New home. He would never call a world with Muggles home.

Draco came down the stairs, jinxing his luggage to float down behind him. He was going to take advantage of his magic while he could, knowing he would very soon no longer have it. He groaned at the thought. Draco knew nothing but magic, and it was torture to even think about being without it. His mother came over from the other room as the house elves they had left, merely two, began loading Draco's things into the Ministry cars outside. He glared at the cars out the window. Useless things they were, when he was much more that capable of Appartition my now. Narcissa took Draco's face in her hands, obviously still finding difficulty in holding back tears.

"Do you have everything?" she asked her son in a shaky voice. Draco nodded reluctantly. "Good," she said. She was silent as she walked out the door with Draco, his excort waiting for him. It was his worst nightmare.

"You?!" he asked, flabbergasted. The tall red head young man grinned and folded his arms.

"Happy to see you, too, Malfoy," George Weasley said, mischief in his eyes. Draco was burning inside. It was official. Someone was trying to torture him. Narcissa turned her son to face her before he could do something that would inevitably land him in Azkaban.

"Draco, look at me," she said pleadingly, "I know this is terrible, but it's...it's only a year. And after that everything will be normal and you can go back to Hogwarts and finish school." She looked away. "I'm not happy about this either, dear. But...but at least it's not prison. So please, no matter what, do try to behave. However," she took hold of his hands tight, and said barely above a whisper, "Do not forget what we stand for." Draco looked over at George, narrowing his eyes, then looked back at his mother, giving a short nod as Narcissa embraced her son.

"Take care, alright," Narcissa told him giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. Draco was immediately mortified. Weasley would never let him live that down. He pulled away from his mother and walked over to where George held the door.

"After you, Drakey-poo," George said with a broad grin. Draco wished looks could kill, looking at George Weasley with nothing but loath as he clammored inside the car. George saluted Mrs. Malfoy, who gave him a look of contempt, as he climbed inside, noticing that Draco was on the furthest side of the car. He shut the door, and Draco couldn't help but stare out the back window as they drove away.

"So, ready to live a completely opposite life?" George asked, seeming far too amused by this entire situation. Draco didn't look at him, but instead stared out the window. "Come on, Malfoy, you can't ignore me the whole ride there. I promise I will just keep talking."

Draco threw a scathing glance in the Weasley boy's direction, wishing he had grabbed a book to read on the way to where ever the hell they were going. He clenched his fists. "Unless you are going to tell me where the hell we're going, then I have no reason to speak to you," Draco told George. George frowned.

"Wow, the wars over, Voldemort's gone and you haven't changed a bit," George observed. "Really, Malfoy, don't you think it's time for you to just...let it go or whatever."

Draco glared. He didn't want to talk to a Weasley, especially one who had always made his school life hell. Well, maybe Draco had done the bullying first, but he was two years younger than George. Why the hell had it been so important to get him back? Draco rolled his eyes, refusing to think on his past. Instead, he focused on how he would cope in a world where the one thing he could always rely on wouldn't be in his grasp. He brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, leaning his head against the seat. Maybe he could just sleep the whole way there. Just as he began to close his eyes, he felt a potent pinch on his forearm.

"Ouch! Weasley, you'll pay for that!" Draco shouted, jumping back to full conciousness and taking his wand out. Weasley laughed.

"Yeah, right, Malfoy," George said. "You're not going to do anything. What would mummy think if you ended up in Azkaban?" Draco set his jaw. "However, you reminded me." He held out his hand.

"What exactly did I remind you of?" Draco asked, irate and clutching his wand tightly. George stared.

"You're wand," George explained. "I have to confiscate it. You'll get it back in an emergency, but otherwise it's mine."

Draco was insanely furious. "You'll get my wand over my dead and rotting corpse!" he shouted, causing the Ministry driver to turn around for a mere second. George, however, flicked his own wand and Draco's flew out of it's owners hand to George, who placed in his empty pocket. Draco glared. "Exactly how am I supposed to get it back from you?"

George grinned. "I'm coming with of course," he said happily. Draco blinked, shocked, wanting nothing more than to scream.

"You're lying," Draco said, a smirk creeping across his face to hide his anxiety. "You're just trying to mess with me."

"As fun as that would be," George explained, "I'm unfortunately not lying. I'm assigned to make sure you behave yourself with your host family. They will be Muggles of course, and they believe they are merely hosting an exchange student." Draco stared, waiting to see if Weasley would ramble out more information, but George waved his hand in dismissal. "I'm saying anymore than that. I'm not allowed to tell you where we are going."

Draco narrowed his gray eyes and went back to staring out the window. They seemed to be approuching London now, and were approuching some traffic. It was tedious getting out of it. After several hours, and plenty more stand offs between Draco and George, they finally stopped in a large structure Draco had never seen before. It was full of more cars, and was dark and shadowy, and they entered through some sort of gate with a flat red and white stick that moved up and down. Finally, the Ministry driver parked the car and turned to the boys.

"You better be going," he said to George. "She'll be waiting at gate eight." George nodded, opening the car door, followed by a more than unhappy Draco. The blond boy slammed the door as he exited and George began loading his things onto a trolly that had not been there before. "Watch it boy! That's Ministry property!"

Draco glared at him, "My dad used to pay the people who pay you," he shouted. "Do you think I-,"

"Okay, okay, Malfoy, come on," George interfered, pushing his cart to him as a distraction. "We gotta get going."

With one last bitter glance at the driver, Draco followed after George in the shadowy lot. The came to a couple of stange looking metal double doors, two pairs of them, and George's brow furrowed.

"Ugh," George thought aloud, "how does this thing work again? Ugh, Dad would know, or Hermione." Draco snorted, folding his arms and tapping his foot. "Oh, that's right." He press a bottom of the two white buttons between the two sets of doors, causing to glow a brilliant red. Suddenly, one of the doors opened, causing both boys to jump. "Blimey, I'll never get used to that." The entered a small little room. Not even a room, but a nicely decorated box. Draco leaned in the back corner, watching as George tried to figure out how to use the damn contraption. Finally he pressed a button next to the letter G, and it glowed gold, and the box began to move downward, making noises like clanking and humming. Draco stopped himself from yelping.

"What the hell is happening?!" Draco asked, trying to sound outraged, not panicked. George seemed not as phased.

"I think it's called an evamilalator. Or something like that," George explained. "There in a lot of large Muggle buildings, Hermione says. They all do this."

Draco growled. Of course Granger's people would come up with something like this. He huddled more in his corner, deciding he officially hated evamilalators.

Once they were on solid ground, Draco desperately wanting to hug the pavement, they crossed over to the outside of the building. Draco had almost forgotten how bright the sun was today, and beat down on him mercilessly as the crossed the street to what looked like another much larger building. Draco's eyes nearly popped out of his head. From this building, giant white bird looking things were shooting off into the sky, flying higher and higher, becoming barely noticable. Some were even flying in low, coming in for a landing. Draco was suddenly terrorfied and swallowed again, wishing he could just run away, but where could he hide? The Ministry would surely find him, and would charge him for sure for escaping custody. Plus without his wand, Draco was pretty much defenseless. Sure he could fight hand to hand combat, but his wand was what made him feel confident and powerful. Without he felt like nothing but a worthless Squib.

They entered the crowding, noticing Muggles hurrying around, some munching on food, some playing on odd weird book looking thing that sat in there lap sideways. Others had strings coming out of their ears that led to a small thin rectangle with a picture on it. Little kids were crying everywhere, as were a few babies. He could people speaking several languages he could understand at all. He was immediately annoyed.

"There you two are!" called a voice that was familiar to Draco. Draco closed his eyes, begging for it to be someone else. It had to be it just couldn't be...

"George, you two have to be on the plane in twenty minutes!" Hermione Granger scolded George, shoving two large pamphlet looking things at him. Her hands were on her hips and her curly hair was tied back in a ponytail. Draco couldn't take it anymore.

"The Mudblood is here, too?!" Draco shouted, causing several Muggles to give him a strange look. George took hold of Draco's arm. Hard. He held it behind his back painfully. "Ow! What the hell?! Let go of me!"

"Apologize," George said darkly, as Granger's eyes darted about the gigantic room. Draco gaped at George.

"I will not! Now let go of me, Weasley. Ouch! You're going to pay for that!"

"Apologize," George threatened, "or I will exchange this ticket for some place less likable. Like Antarctica perhaps." Draco gritted his teeth and staring at George with hatred. He looked to Hermione.

"Sorry," he forced himself to say, reminding himself to wash his mouth out with soap the very next chance he got.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" George taunted, releasing Draco. Draco rubbed his arm, feeling angry and humiliated, but said nothing. Granger rolled her eyes.

"Now, remember, George," Granger explained, handing him two small books as well, "you need to read up on the culture as much as possible. They're very...different from us." She turned to Draco, her eyes narrowed. "Same goes for you, too."

Draco returned the look of great dislike as loud woman's voice could be heard from somewhere unseen. Draco blinked and looked around, eyes narrowed, secretly wondering how they were doing that. "Flight 436 one way to America will be boarding in ten minutes."

"That's you," Granger said, giving George a hug. "I have to go find Ron and Harry. We have another meeting today with the Ministry. This is getting quite aggitating, really." She turned to Draco, arms folded. "Though we have never liked each other, Malfoy, I do want to wish you luck. America is very different, especially the Muggles. She walked away quickly, her nose high the air. Draco rounded on George.

"Weasley I am holding personally responsible for this!" he said as the entered a place called baggage check. They began search through all of Draco's things, giving strange looks that Draco promptly ignored. "Of all the places, America! You think this is funny?!"

George was chuckling as the baggage checkers took there bags away. "Yes, actually, this is quite humorous," George replied. "But, unfortunately, I was not involved with the decision about where to send you. Had I been, you'd be some where much more deserving, like Tibet or the Republic of Chad, or perhaps Romania where my dear brother can feed you to a Hungarian Horntail." George grinned, enjoying very much how much he was irritating Draco. Draco set his jaw as George handed him his ticket. They went down a long hallway, where a women in a blue suit and hat was checking tickets before allowing them to board the plane thing. As they finally entered, Draco groaned again. The inside was nothing but two rows of dark blue seats and a very narrow walkway. The boys made there way down the walkway and found their seats, but before sitting down, Draco saw a doorway with a blue curtain in front of it, stating above in red letters "First Class Only."

"Why can't we sit in there?" Draco asked George.

"Because our tickets don't say first class," George replied, trying to get by a rather large lady with a big pink hat. He grinned. "I call window!"

Draco gaped. "That's not fair! I should get the window!"

George stared at him from the window seat. "Why ever so, Master Malfoy," George said mockingly. Draco stomped his foot.

"Because I'm a pureblood, a real one, and I come before you!" Draco yelled, now getting even more weird looks. "Now move!"

"No, you see, Malfoy," George explained. "What you are right now is a criminal in custody, who got a sentence that was much more than you will ever deserve. In my opinion, you should have been sent to Azkaban and had your wand shredded to peices. However, it's because of Harry that you are not locked up right now. It is probably also because of Harry that your are being relocted to America, and not some place hostile. So think about that Malfoy. Someone you are set on hating has just helped you out a great deal. Someone you bullied through school decided to help you out of going to prison," he suddenly grinned, "and all you can think about is the window seat." Draco glared, wanting so badly for the red-head to burst into flames. Suddenly, another woman, dressed in the same blue outfit as the first, approuched.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to sit down and fasten your seat belt," she walked away, never knowing the burning gray eyes upon her. Draco sighed frustratedly and sat down, picking up two weird flat things that must have been this "seat belt" that woman had spoke of. He attempted to put them together, but they would nat stay.

"How does this thing work?!" Draco hissed. George pulled the one in his left hand from him and replaced in with a different looking one. One that looked like it must go in the slot of the part in his right hand. He pushed them together, hearing a click, and then tried to pull them apart. He could not do so. Ha! He had done it! No stupid Muggle invention was going to outsmart Draco Malfoy!

"Hello everyone!" said a woman at the front, also in one of those blue uniforms. She spoke into a box with a cord at the bottom that she had taken from the wall that made her voice louder. "I'm your head fligth attendant, Holly Bishop. We're gonna have a great fligth this early morning, but first let's set some ground rules, 'kay. First, if you haven't already, please fasten your seat belts. Second, please turn off all cell phones and last, unles you need to use the lavatory, please remain in your seats. Me or one of the other flight attendants will gladly help you. Enjoy your flight and thank you for choosing Air America!" She replaced the box and exited through a blue curtain. Draco frowned, leaning over to his very much disliked companion.

"Why couldn't we just...Apparate or fly normally," he asked, his face screwed into a very disgusted scowl. George sighed.

"Gotta make it all look ligit," George explained. "They gotta pick you up from the other...airport thingy."

Draco scowled and went back to staring ahead and the plane began to rumble and move. Before he could have seen it coming they were up in the air. He snuck a peak out George's window to see the world become small and insignificant, though Draco could have sworn it had always been the latter. He decided to try to take a nap again. He had had to wake up terribly early that day, not remembering having to wake up that early even for school. However, as he just bagan to doze off, he felt an odd feeling in his ears, as if someone had suddenly shoved two large stones in them, causing his hearing to become a bit muffled. Out of instinct, he yawned, trying to push the rocks out.

POP!

"AHHH!" Draco covered his ears, screaming in agony. George, who had blowing bubbles with his gum jumped into the air and stared at him. The flight attendant ran over, looking either worried or annoyed.

"Is everything alright here?" she asked. Draco opened his mouth to retort, but George cut him off.

"My...uh...my friend here has never been on a plane before," George struggled to say. He hand Draco a stick of chewing gum. "I forgot to tell him about the ear...thing." He grinned sheepishly. The flight attendant gave a small "hmph" before walking away. Yep, obviously annoyed.

"I hate chewing gum," Draco hissed at George, still holding his ears. George shrugged.

"Either that or the popping," he said, blowing another obnoxious bubble. Draco glared, but took the gum and reluctantly began to open it.

"This better not be one of your lame pranks, Weasley," Draco warned sticking the gum in his mouth, looking bitter the entire time.

"I would never," George said, feigning innocence. "Mostly because by law I can't." He grinned and Draco refused to look at him. So much for taking a nap.

He officially hated planes as well.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

So that's the first chapter, definitely a little rocky but it gets better.

R&R please! But be gentle, this is my first time doing a story kinda like this.


	3. Chapter 3

So sry for the hiatus there guys. Been busy getting ready for school again. Plus my poor laptop was being held hostage by the Geek Squad. Lol.

Also, I have great ideas for this story in my head, but I can't just randomly go with it like I did with **The Gryffindor Girl and the Slytherin Seeker**. Since I'm trying to stick to a more canon Draco, and give the Muggles distinct personalities that don't out-shine him, it's a little hard, though I really do love him so much. I will try my best to be more consistent with updates, but I unfortunately cannot make promises.

DISCLAIMER: I do not Harry Potter or any of the characters. But I will own my own franchise someday. *narrows eyes* Watch your back Rowling

Oh and brownie points to anyone who gets the allusion to other entertainment. I'll give you a hint. It is a cartoon.

CHAPTER 3: MEETING THE FAMILY

They arrived in America in the early evening, pushing through the lobby of the American Airport. George and Draco found Draco's luggage and walked over into the large crowd, seeing a tall man with brown hair and an outfit that seemed entirely all over the place. There was a sit, but then there was plain, and then there was yellow. Draco scowled as he noticed the man holding the sign WEASLEY AND MALFOY.

"Hi!" the man said. His accent drawled of American. "I'm Justin Grays! Welcome to America!"

George nodded as they all helped drag luggage out of the lobby and outside to the sidewalk. Draco looked about, seeing how much darker it was outside. The sun was still out, but it looked much darker due to the shadows of the gigantic buildings that surrounded the place as they crossed the side walk to the parking garage as the Grays bloke called it. They had to be nearly a million feet tall. Draco knew Hogwarts was big, the Ministry, too, but these buildings looked absurdly tall! He frowned. Muggles were definitely all show.

They loaded into another Ministry car and began going through more tedious traffic, with red, yellow and green lights flashing and lights that hung high on poles and lined the street flicking on. Draco leaned his head against the window. He felt dizzy and slightly nauseos, and George said planes and cars were good about making people feel like that. Draco groaned. He wanted to go home and fly around on his broomstick, to play Wizards Chess with his mother, maybe even let her win just to see her smile. His mother was a challenge, of course, but she never seemed to beat her son. And it had been an extremely long time since Draco had seen his mother smile.

They turned a sharp corner causing Draco to knock his forehead against the window. As Draco, his thoughts interrupted, began to rub his forehead, George laughed out loud and Grays stopped talking about how in American history (Muggle American that is) in 1492 King George the Third was forcing Americans to drink tea which caused the Revolutionary War.

"You alright back there?" Grays asked them. Draco growled as George snorted.

"We're fine, Justin," George replied. Draco sighed in frustration, wanting nothing more than to escape this car and find some way home. He looked down the road, noticing that the traffic had picked up and cars were speeding all down the highway. _I guess that's out of the question_, he thought bitterly. _Then again if I'm dead no one can touch me._

Unfortunately, Draco never got his chance unlock the car door and produce an epic tuck and roll that was completely uncharacteristic of him. The car left off the highway and seemed to go straight into a neighborhood of small houses. Some the yards were nicely trimmed, where others were over grown and unkempt, which made the neat and tidy boy frown. Some of the houses were even already decorated for Halloween. Draco immediately thought of Hogwarts and never thought he would miss school damn much.

The road seemed to go on forever before the car hooked a right, going down a road known as Ferguson Avenue. Draco noticed that the houses had gotten bigger and her more spread out. He suddenly had his first positive thought that day: He would at least be staying with upper class Muggles.

If there was such a thing, of course.

It was dark now as Grays pulled over to the side of the road to the last house that laid far off into the shadows of a cul-de-sac. It was rather late and a light hung over the porch, illuminating the front door. Across the over-hang was a banner practically shouting WELCOME TO AMERICA, DRACO!

Draco wanted to gag.

"Come along, Ferret King," George told Draco, a huge, annoying grin sweeping across his freckled features, "time to meet your new family."

Draco growled threateningly, wondering if punching George Weasley right now would get more charges pressed upon him. The three men unloaded Draco's things from the car as they approached the house. It wasn't really very awful. It was big and white with a grey roof and trim, with amaryllis, roses and violets lining the walkway and the porch. The bushes at the front were trimmed to perfection, and Draco felt the tiniest, infinitesimal sigh of relief. He was so caught up with making sure everything was up to standard – as it could be, being a Muggle home – that he nearly jumped as George rung the load chiming doorbell.

After a few moment, the white door opened and a rather tall man stood there. He had dark gray hair that looked as if it were once brown and focusing brown eyes. He eyed each of them, including Draco, before showing his reaction to Grays's outfit.

"Well, looks like a party!" the man said happily. Draco felt his scowl again. Was everyone in this country so bloody happy?!

"I'm just the driver, be outta here as soon as we have Mr. Malfoy settled," Grays said as the man gestured for everyone to come in. They all lugged in Draco's luggage.

"Oh, just sit it in the living room for now," said a feminine voice from beyond a small hallway. "Brighton and Mac can help him with it later."

Draco rose a brow, hoping Brighton and Mac were servants he could just boss into _doing_ the task altogether. The man nodded, agreeing with the voice.

"Yes, my wife is right," he explained as George, Grays and Draco all set something down. He looked to Draco with a sincere smile. "It shouldn't take long to get you settled."

Draco forced himself not to scowl, to retort, or to even vomit. He knew that this was the moment, The beginning of the end. When he would be forced into behaving.

"Oh my goodness, you're a handsome one," said the woman's voice again as she walked out. She was tall and slim with hair the color of wheat and eyes so green they could pass for emeralds. She had on high waist jeans, and t-shirt and a purple-frilly apron. Draco frowned, realizing that this meant that the woman cooked her own meals, as well as the families, making her the wife here. That meant that Draco's vision of servants and leisure was just an exaggerated fantasy. He should have known. "Oh, where is Mac, anyway? MAC!"

Draco flinched at the high pitch summon, as George nearly had a fit from trying not to laugh. He was used to a yelling mother, where Narcissa had always been quiet and calm. Of course when you had house-elves to send messages across a large mansion, there was no need to shout.

A loud repetitive thumping was heard from upstairs, and Draco was sure the house was about cave in. Instead, the thumping got louder and faster. Grays simply smiled.

"I better be going," he said with a bow. "Gotta get back to work. Mr. Malfoy, good luck and good night to you all."

As Grays left the house, closing the front door behind him, a voice accompanied the thumping. A loud, screeching, impatient, but feminine voice.

"He's here! He's here," the voice squealed. The owner almost tumbled down the stairs. She was short, the shortest in the room definitely, and her hair was long, brown and curly, falling past her shoulders. She was very tan, almost tawny skinned, which made her shocking light blue eyes even more startling. Said eyes darted about the room before falling on Draco. He suddenly felt his life was in mortal danger as she squealed at a decibel that didn't exist before. "You're here! Oh I'm so glad you're here! I've been wanting to host an exchange student for so long and-,"

"Whoa, whoa, Mac, hold on a sec," the man said to the girl. Wait. This was Mac? Draco was officially annoyed by this country. A girl named Mac! How ludicrous! "He just got here. Give him a minute." He turned to George. "You're his sponsor, right?" he asked.

"Eh? Oh, yes, Mr. Fairfield. And, yeah, Mr. Malfoy here has had quite a trip so he's gonna need some time to calm down." Draco glared at George. _Just this once, spontaneously combust_.

"Yes, I agree," the woman replied, approaching Draco. She roughly took his face in her hand and Draco instinctively winced. _Oh God, my face is going to melt off. Aaaah!_ However, his face remained perfectly fine as she said, "My goodness, what do they feed you in England? You look starved to death!"

"And look like you haven't seen the light day," Add the girl named Mac. "You're not a vampire are you?"

George snorted causing Draco to glare at him again. _Come_ _on, gingers have to be more flammable than other hair colors! They just have to! Their hair is RED!_ "Nah, Mr. Malfoy just prefers the indoors." George cleared his throat. "Well, how _ferrety_ of me, I forgot my manners." _If I don't calm down I really will blow something up,_ Draco suddenly thought, his look at George lethal. "Anyways, Malfoy, this is Brighton and Lisa Fairfield, they will be your host family during your stay here."

Draco groaned. As suspected and feared. No servants. Damn bloody Muggles. Brighton took the girl's hand and led her to the front. "And this is our way too nice, over achieving daughter, McKenna. She sent out eight application and research 12 countries before she found you."

McKenna's eyes narrowed, her irises almost aglow. "I go by Mac," she said darkly. She turned to Draco, beaming again and still very, very excited to see him.

Conclusion one: American's were psycho.

Mrs. Fairfield invited George to stay for dinner, which the pig accepted of course. Mr. Fairfield and his wife kept asking Draco random questions, about his previous school, about his interest, his friends, to all he cleverly lied or allowed George to answer for him. He was extremely uncomfortable here because he didn't like hiding himself. In fact, he really wanted his wand so he could scare the Mac girl into getting his luggage for him.

"Thanks for dinner, Mrs. Fairfield," George said as he was walking out of the house. "Only my mum can make chicken casserole like that!"

"I'm glad you enjoyed it, George," Mrs. Fairfield replied. "I suppose you will be checking on Draco then?" She turned to the blonde. "My dear, no offense, but you have such a strange name."

Draco growled, but before he could retort, Mac piped up.

"I think it's awesome," she said happily. She began make dramatic poses as she spoke. "Draco! Dragon of the stars!"

Draco stared, finally scared that this crazy girl might kill him in his sleep. "How…how old are you?"

Mac frowned, blatantly offended. "Same as you. I'm seventeen."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna be eighteen soon though," Draco pointed out, obviously showing how far superior he was to her. Mac pouted and Draco felt he had finally found something fun he could do here.

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll be checking in," then he pulled Draco aside, closer to the door. He was still grinning. "Alright, Malfoy. Here we go. You better behave yourself. I will be watching." He motioned his fingers to his eyes and then to Draco. Draco glared.

"Dammit, missed my opportunity to permanently blind you," he said. George sighed.

"Look, seriously, Malfoy, just give this place a chance, alright?" Draco was almost taken aback by George being serious. "The Fairfield's are nice people, so don't go making trouble for them. For once just take off the damn rose colored glasses your parents bestowed on you and see the world. Really see. You could really learn something here. Not just about how wrong you are, but about yourself period." George backed away from Draco, his grin reappearing. "Besides, it really is only a year." And the front door clicked shut, and Draco Malfoy was left to fend for himself. He wheeled around back the Fairfield family, completely terrified.

"Mac, why don't you show Draco around the house," Mr. Fairfield offered. "Meanwhile I can get some of his heavier stuff up to his room." He walked over a picked up Draco's trunk only to drop it down hard. _Watch it, you moron, those are expensive_, Draco thought. "Jesus, boy, whatchu got in this thing? A dead body?"

"No!" Draco suddenly snapped. He felt foolish afterward, realizing that Mr. Fairfield had meant nothing by the comment. Mac laughed a bit.

"You goof, Dad was joking," she said, snatching his wrist. _Oh God, the psycho is touching me! Am I bleeding?!_ Whether or not Mac's touch was injuring Draco in anyway, he didn't find out as she turned the corner to a kitchen that was the same size as the living room.

"This is our kitchen," Mac told him with a grin. "My mom doesn't approve of late night snacks, however, I do. But if you get midnight snacks while you're here, you better wake me first."

Draco rolled his eyes. Sharing was not a quality he was known for. He looked over to see a large box looking thing in the corner.

"What's that?" Draco asked, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. Mac blinked.

"What's what?"

"That thing!" Draco demanded, pointing to it again. Mac looked over it and raised a brow.

"That," she said as if a five year old should know, "is a microwave, Draco."

Draco glared. "Don't talk to me that way."

"Well, I know you're not poor, Draco," she said. "I mean, look at the way you're dress. So you must own a microwave, and a fridge and stove and a-,"

"Of course, I have them," Draco said defensively. "I was just…messing with you. Making sure you knew what it was."

Mac blinked. "That's stupid." She began to lead the way again, heading for the stairs. "So, you're not planning on dressing like _that_ are you?" Mac asked as they headed up the stairs. She eyed his outfit in distaste, while Draco looked himself over, not noticing a thing wrong with his outfit. He had on a nice black long sleeve shirt, creased gray slacks and had his old emerald and silver Slytherin tie on.

"And what exactly is wrong with my outfit?" Draco asked, a sneer appearing on his face.

Mac frowned. "Drake, you look like you're going to church. Not even church. Like a wedding or a funeral. You can't dress like that at school!"

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. "I can and will dress however I want, thank you. I always dress like this."

Mac blinked. "Wow," she said. "Just…wow." She flipped her hair over her shoulder before opening a door on the left. "Shmenyways, this is your room. Mine's right next door and the bathroom is across. Mom and Dad are down the hall." She turned to the much taller blonde. "Any questions, Young Padawan?"

Draco stared. "Excuse me? What the bloody hell did you just call me?"

Mac raised a brow. "Don't tell me you were that sheltered. _Everyone_ has seen Star Wars."

"No, not everyone," Draco countered, deciding to leave out the part where he had no clue what Star Wars was. Mac nearly had a seizure.

"That's impossible! What is _wrong_ with your family?!" Mac looked as if she might die, and suddenly Draco wished she would. "Ohmigosh, first thing tomorrow we are _sooo_ watching _A New Hope_!" She suddenly went into thought, something that until Draco wasn't sure she could do. "Well, after school shopping of course."

Draco clenched his hand into fists, automatically digging in his pocket before he remembered no wand lied there. He growled at Mac. "First off, nothing is wrong with my family! And second of all," he paused for a moment, "school shopping?"

"Well, duh, you goof ball," Mac said, leading the way back down stairs. "We gotta get pens and notebooks and binders. The basics really, of course we never really know what we need until that first day, and then we just do it again."

Draco was puzzled. "You don't stay at school?"

"Heck no, silly!" Mac replied. "And thank God for that! I would hate to stay at school all the time." She looked up at the blonde beaming. "I guess that'll be different for you, since you went to a boarding school and all."

Draco shrugged, finding himself thinking out loud. "The freedom was nice," and then, he remembered last year. "The trouble…not so much."

"Oh, so you were a trouble maker?"

"No, people made trouble for me," Draco told her, though something wrenched inside him as he said that.

"Like how?" Mac asked.

"None of your business alright?" Draco all but snapped. "Damn, you're nosey."

Mac narrowed her eyes. "And you have a bad mouth," she observed. "Better not to use it around my mom. I once let the F bomb slipped around her." She made her eyes wide, as if she were tramatized. Draco rolled his own eyes at this display. "So. Much. Soap." She shook her head. "You know, you're more sensitive than I had thought you would be."

Dracp gaped. "_Sensitive?_" he drawled. Mac nodded.

"Yeah, just about everything I said so far has upset you, including just now," Mac stared at him. "Your sponsor, George, he didn't say anything about you being like that. In fact, he said you could take anything from anyone, and probably dish just as much."

Draco blinked. A Weasley had said something like _that_ about _him_? Okay, what the hell is he playing at. "Did he now? What else did he say?"

"That you were also into sports," Mac explained casually. She sat down on the couch in the living area as Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield were watching some show called CSI. She motioned for Draco to join her and he did, but sat as far away as possible, of course. "And that you didn't have many friends at your school." _That bloody wanker! _"He also said, and I quote," Mac cleared her throat and began to sport perhaps the worst impression of a British accent in history, " 'Draco can be a right git sometimes, but if you know how to handle him, he's actually just a cuddly little ferret.'" Mac grinned and Draco found himself scowling again. _I have no choice, for the sake of my pride, George Weasley must die. _

Angry, tired, and a tad humiliated, Draco turned to Mac, faking a yawn. "Hey, look…Mac," he said uncomfortably, "I'm just gonna turn in." He got up waited to make sure she bought it. However, her expression showed anything but that, as if she already knew better than to believe anything he said. _She knows too much. She must die as well_. Then, the blond boy shook his head. _I really have to stop being so dramatic_.

"M'kay," Mac said, her arms folded and her brow raised. She rose from the couch and seem to take a stance as if she was attempting to make herself taller. Draco nearly laughed. "But you better really be asleep in there." She glared, and Draco was sure her eyes were capable of shooting sparks or some sort of magic. "Or you will face my wrath."

Draco stared for a moment, once again fearing the girl would kill him in his sleep. Then, Mac burst into a very loud fit of laughter.

"Sheesh, Drake, calm down, dude," she said with a wide smile. How could anyone be so friendly? "You shouldn't take things so seriously. Especially me. Ninety-eight percent of everything I say has no fact or truth behind, unless I say someone died…which with that it's still pretty rare." She beamed again and suddenly did Draco's greatest unknown fear.

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.

_AHHHH!!!_

"Night, Drake!" Mac said as Draco wrenched himself free, hearing Mr. and Mrs. Fairfield bid him goodnight. He took the stairs in twos, heading for his new room. It was plain with no personality whatsoever, and Draco was annoyed by that. He finally noticed that during the tour that Mr. Fairfield had brought all his things into the room, and was amazed. No one had ever done him a favor really, unless they were forced, so the fact that Mr. Fairfield would bring all his things up here, even though they were very heavy and overly packed, was an anomaly. Draco fell on his bed. Mrs. Fairfield obviously was extremely nice, motherly, and maybe even naïve. She didn't seem to mind the fact that a boy, not related to her daughter at all, would be staying in close proximity to said daughter. Draco wondered how anyone could be so kind and so…non-judgmental. Judgment was all Draco had ever known, for he had always been judged by his name and his status.

Then there was the daughter herself, McKenna, Mac, who was, though possibly borderline psychotic, was perhaps the most joyful, bubbly and overly excited person he had ever met. However, he could already see she had something else that few of her extremely friendly kind have: a backbone. She was willing to be friendly with Draco, but was not about to let him walk all over her. He sighed. He knew now he was on his own, because he knew he wouldn't be able to bend any of the Fairfield's to his will, except by the magic he didn't have. He growled under his breath as a scuffling noise was heard outside his window.

His mother's owl, Tiernan, was outside with a simple folded piece of parchment in his beak. Draco walked over to the window, opened it, and took the letter from the owl. The large eagle owl flew into the room resting atop the desk in the corner with some weird white box with a black glass square in the middle connected to matching other attachments Draco couldn't recognize. He opened the folded parchment to his mother's neat, prim handwriting.

_**Dearest Draco,**_

_**If you can do so without those awful Muggles suspecting, please try to write to me. Do not hesitate to tell me about how terrible those foul creatures are treating you. If anyone harms one hair on your head, or you come back any less the person you were when you left, they will answer to me! **_

Draco rolled his eyes at this. He was seventeen. He could take care of himself.

_**I am in the process of talking to some lawyers, seeing if there is any way to get you back sooner. I have also been arranging things with Professor McGonagall, so you can smoothly make your way back into Hogwarts next year. I know all your friends will have already graduated, but you really should finish your education. I just know you can be anything you want.**_

Once again, he rolled his eyes.

_**I know you're not happy, and I'm not happy, and of course your father isn't happy, but please don't dwell on it. Just try to make the most of this. I just know…there has to be some upside. Well, you're not in Azkaban, of course, but still.**_

_**Please write as soon as you can. The mansion is dreadfully lonely. I've even found myself talking to Wattie and Nezzie. Goodness, what has our family come to?**_

_**Love Always,**_

_**Your Mother**_

Draco sighed as he rumbled his hair, looking over to the owl, who gave a short hoot. He crossed the room to one of his bags a pulled out a small piece of parchment, and began to scribble his response.

_**Mother,**_

_**Everything is fine here. I'm alive and in one piece, so please stop worrying. The Muggle family is the oddest bunch of people I have ever met, especially their kid. I swear she's barking.**_

_**I will definitely do my best to behave but I can't make you any promises. The Weasley already confiscated my wand and, honestly, I feel completely useless without it. And these Muggles! They treat me like I'm stupid! What morons! I swear the father of the family scratch my trunk. Filthy git.**_

_**I will write when I can, but I have a feeling these people aren't used to owls just flying around. Really, Mum, don't worry. I'll be fine.**_

He scowled, forcing his hand to write the last statement. He didn't feel fine and didn't think he ever would.

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Your Son**_

Draco folded the letter twice and handed it the Tiernan, who snatched it and flew back into the night sky. High sighed once more before closing the window and deciding to get into his night attire, which nowadays was merely a t-shirt and a pair of flannel pants. After shutting off the light – after several tries at voice commands, clapping, and burning himself on the bulb - he flopped onto the bed and closed his eyes.

_I just know…there has to be an upside…_

_You could really learn something here. Not just about how wrong you are, but about yourself period._

_I just know you can be anything you want._

_It really is only a year._

Draco's eyes snapped open again, as he stared at the ceiling in the light of the moon. He had never been so annoyed in his entire life, and once again hoped against all hope that this was just a horrendous nightmare.

_If it's not_, Draco thought as he fell asleep on the surprisingly comfortable bed, _I will destroy the horrible Weasle-bee._

That's chapter three. And this is the result of caffeine, boredom, and a nebulizer breathing treatment

Itsuka: Ms. Rowling, I know we have been through this before, but could you just give me Fred, George, Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Severus and Draco?

Draco: Please don't give me to her! She's insane!

Fred: She's not so bad

George: Yeah, she obviously likes you for some reason

Tonks: You can't have Remus! He's mine!

Sirius: Hey, I thought he was mine!

*Sirius and Tonks bicker* *Remus gets a migraine* *Fred and George are throwing fire crackers at Draco* *Severus is looming in the corner being AWESOME!*

JKR: You see what you've done now! Why must you crazy people keep doing this?!

Itsuka:….We love you? *mumbles* Even if you hate Americans.

JKR: What was that?

Itsuka: Nothing at all.

Plz review


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